Work Text:
It’s been years since Richie first crawled into his bed, trembling and white as a ghost, at just twelve years old. Years since that first sleepover, when Eddie finally figured out just how bad the Tozier household was, how cold, barren, and unwelcoming.
They’re older now, juniors, the end of Derry in sight, when the night terrors start.
It starts out small, small being only in comparison to the worse nights. Richie whimpers and tosses, waking Eddie who watches as his eyes flick back and forth behind his eyelids, searching.
In the daytime, he denies it all, claiming he slept perfectly fine. Pushes his glasses a little higher, pulls out a cigarette and lighter, presses a kiss into Eddie’s hair when he wrinkles his nose.
It’s probably the stress, Eddie decides. So many new things are happening, so much change. Teachers are in a frantic state, pulling out life planners, asking about after graduation goals, insisting they catch up on community service, apply at every college. Some days Eddie looks over and sees the bewildered and lost look in Richie’s eyes. Always reaches over and takes his hand. The world is moving very fast, and for once, the hyperactive trashmouth couldn’t seem to catch up.
Eddie is trying his best, treading the water, staying above the waves. He almost cries when he gets a letter of acceptance, three states away, three wonderful state lengths away from his mother. Richie whoops and pulls him into a tight hug, Eddie’s feet not touching the ground, and insists they celebrate with pizza and vodka. Eddie manages to get to him to settle for pizza.
The nightmares continue, but Richie seems okay, no haunted look in his eye or dark circles. Eddie thinks it’ll pass when the summer rolls around.
----
Eddie has seen Richie scared, but nothing like That Night.
Richie sits straight up in bed, screaming, and Eddie nearly rolls off the bed, awaking with a start. Richie’s arms are flailing in front of him, his eyes open but unseeing, just searching the dark. Eddie grabs ahold of his shoulders, shaking him, listening now the the high pitched whimpers. The quiet pleas of “Eddie, Eddie, Eddie”, although he doesn’t seem to realize he’s there.
“Richie, Richie, I’m here. I’m right here.”
This continues for a few long, terrifying minutes, before Richie begins to quiet, wet breathes and aborted sobs slowing.
“Eddie?” He croaks, trying to pull back.
Eddie holds on tight, pulls him into a hug, Richie going all too easily. He hushes him, rocks them a little, petting his curls. Richie is stiff for a minute, before he lets out a shuddery breath, sinking into the embrace.
They don’t talk about it that night. Instead Eddie pulls Richie against his chest when they lay back down, and though it’s not his intention, Richie falls asleep listening to the steady whoosh of air filling and leaving Eddie’s lungs. Eddie stays awake, staring at the dark ceiling, echos of Richie’s terrified voice bouncing back and forth in his mind. At one point Richie begins to whimper again and Eddie shushes him, brushing over his hair until he quiets.
It’s the first night of many.
----
It’s heartbreaking and untimely when Eddie realizes what’s going on. The Losers are all at a diner for lunch period, and Richie is rolling out the jokes more than usual. Bill is trying to tell them about this mission he wants to go on, some housing project in Mexico, Richie basically babbling over the top of him, and Stan telling Richie to shut up, when it clicks.
He feels like he’s been suckerpunched, his chest tightening, and he must stiffen or let out a wheeze because Richie’s eyes are on him immediately, ready to pull out an inhaler or yell at someone.
Of course. Of course Richie would be terrified of everyone leaving. Of course he would take it as them forgetting about him. Of course, because it’s his worse fear, no matter how many fronts he puts up, that everyone around him will no longer want him, or worse, need him.
Of course he would take Eddie’s acceptance letter as a goodbye.
He manages a weak smile, Richie looking unconvinced, but turning back to the conversation which has now turned to Bev making out with Ashley Burns in the Home Ec. room.
----
“I’m not leaving you behind.” They’re cuddling in bed, Richie’s head on his lap, Eddie pretending to read his math textbook. Really the numbers are swirling in front of his eyes, and he can’t keep those words clamped behind his teeth anymore.
Richie stiffens. “What?”
Eddie pushes the textbook to the floor, the loud thump ringing in his ears. “I said I’m not leaving you. I’m not going to go off to college and leave you in this shit town.”
Richie doesn’t say anything, which means Eddie is hitting the nail right on the head. A very painful nail, no doubt.
“You’re going to get out too. We’ll make your applications so impressive that not even Harvard could say no, and we’re going to get out together.”
Richie is silent for a moment. “Harvard sucks. I hear their orientation ritual is to put a stick up your ass. We should aim for something more chill, like…” He trails off and Eddie snorts
“You can’t think of any other colleges, can you.”
“Shut up Eds, I’m thinking.”
Eddie flicks his ear, before leaning down and pressing a soft kiss onto his lips. “You can’t lie to me Tozier. You’re too blushy, just like any other schoolgirl.”
Richie just narrows his eyes, flips him off, reaches up to pull his head back down and kiss him again. It’s a distraction, and Eddie allows it for a few seconds, before pulling back slightly. He can count everyone of Richie’s freckles now, the prettiest constellation, and his chest squeezes.
“Can you tell me about your nightmares now?”
The fear is laid bare in his eyes, and they both hear his screams in the walls. “It’s stupid.”
“Doesn’t mean it’s not important.”
Richie sighs, presses his head into Eddie’s thigh, his voice muffled. “It’s just dark. I can hear you but I can’t see you. You’re just getting farther and farther away, and I can’t follow you.”
Richie’s subconscious isn’t being subtle. It’s taken his worst fear and is letting it play out in front of Richie every night. Something slimy and cold twists around Eddie’s gut and he combs his fingers through his hair. There’s a slight dampness soaking into his jeans from where Richie is pressing his face, and Eddie lets him lay there and cry, just petting his hair. When he finally surfaces, Eddie takes his face in his hands, tracing those pretty constellations.
“You’ll never have to follow me Richie. We’re going in hand in hand, and I’m going to watch you thrive wherever we end up.”
For the next year and a half, they’re still stuck here. But Eddie is sure wherever the future carries him, Richie will be right there with him.